Beginings End
by DalWriter
Summary: At least by S2E2, Mike & Paige are together, but how did that happen? This is my take on how they said goodbye before Mike returned to D.C.


**Standard disclaimers apply:** Not mine. Just for fun. No money is changing hands & I sincerely hope the owners believe that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Mike sits alone down by the shoreline. The fire that had been built earlier when everyone was outside for his goodbye bonfire has slowly been dying as night creeps toward morning. The logical side of his brain knows he should get some sleep but summer's over and so is his assignment at Graceland. In the morning he'll be flying home to D.C. and his dream job. No more housemates. No more working past dawn with the most dangerous of thugs and sleeping all day, trying to keep the nightmares at bay. No more surfing. Just a routine 9-5 desk job with no bloodshed and a steady climb toward the Director's job. That had been his plan all along so why did that prospect seem so bleak now? Snow. Rain. Cold. Suits rather than sandals. Boardrooms instead of surf boards. People who used the Rule Book for something more than a coaster or a punchline. Yet, he had no idea where he was going to be able to get a decent taco never mind a Guadalajara dog in the District. How did he become addicted to hot dogs with sour cream and jalapenos anyway?

Taking a sip from his beer, Mike smiles as Paige sits down next to him, folding her legs underneath her Indian style. She's wearing her black string bikini under a man's blue button down oxford. Only about two buttons somewhere near the middle are fastened, revealing tanned skin and toned muscle.

"Is that my shirt?" he asks, somewhat amused but happy to have solved the mystery about why he couldn't find it when he was packing earlier.

She smiles glancing down at her outfit, "It's mine now."

"What'r you doing back out here? I thought you went to bed."

"Couldn't sleep," she replies. "Don't you have a plane to catch?"

"Yeah but it's not 'til four. Guess I wanted one last night out here. There's not much beach in D.C." he explains.

"There's always Ocean City or Virginia Beach," she offers.

He smiles back grateful that she's trying to help. "It won't be the same."

"The ocean is the ocean. Sand is sand," she replies pragmatically.

"You won't be there," he opens up.

Her smile turns sad, but she scoots closer to him and he puts his arm around her shoulders, tucking her smaller frame against his side. Although he's no bodybuilder, at 6'0" he's still got several inches on Paige who settles her head into the crook of his shoulder.

When she shivers in the cool autumn morning, Mike opens his legs and invites her to sit in front of him so he can keep her warm. She moves into his embrace and leans back fully against his chest. Her knees are bent in front of her. She can't fully extend them or her feet will be in the fire. He wraps both arms around her to snuggle her even closer. She sighs contentedly, staring at the fire, thinking how safe and cherished she feels.

Leaning forward slightly, Mike drops his chin to her shoulder and nuzzles her neck, rubbing his cheek against her jaw line. "This is nice."

"Yeah," she agrees, caressing his arms and gently squeezing his biceps. She can feel the corded muscle even though he doesn't have the bulk. That gripper he's always clutching keeps his arms toned.

Mikes hands aren't idle. His initial attempts to simply and platonically keep the beautiful woman in his arms warm have been abandoned. Although the air temperature hasn't risen, the heat in their tiny pocket of the globe is steadily increasing. He moves his hands to her knees then slides them down her shins, letting his thumbs graze her strong calf muscles. Pulling back, he strokes the length of whole leg, rubbing her thighs as if to restore warmth to the extremities. Her legs were truly velvet over steel. After a moment, he drags his hands to the outside of her thighs and up to her hips before brushing up and down her lanky sides. As he caresses Paige more sensually, he allows his hands to slide inside the shirt teasing the muscles of her stomach and playing up her sides. Her skin is warm to the touch and now when she shivers it's because of him, not the ambient temperature. His ministrations are like he's trying to read every aspect of her through Braille.

For her part, Paige is sinking ever deeper under Mike's spell. She's wanted this since the first time they flirted. She thought she was going to melt on the spot the morning she caught him doing the walk of shame when he'd assured her that good sex was a workout. Thinking about how much fun it would be to work out with the delicious Agent Warren is what made her come out with that retort about it being the Got Laid Parade. Here now, on this deserted beach with only the dying fire for light, it feels like her skin is on fire in the most amazing way, reacting to his touch. This time she knows it is about her. She wants him to touch her everywhere; the electricity is fast becoming addictive. Paige never understood the allure of the drugs she fights to keep off the street every day. If asked, she say that adrenaline was her drug of choice, even though she knows that causes problems too but Mike Warren, that's something she'd love to get hooked on. As they mesh their bodies together even through the layers of clothes between them, she can feel other parts of him rising up to press into her back and she wiggles against him, deliberately increasing the friction. The morning he's tackled her during their first touch football game with Johnny, she'd felt him stirring and always wondered if she'd get to have a close encounter with the real thing.

The couple rocks back and forth against each other, writhing together, finding the rhythm of this new connection. Beginning to realize that she's as into this as he has always dreamed of, Mike continues his sensual exploration of this goddess in his arms until he becomes brave enough to lightly skim the outside of her breasts. When she bows her back and softly mewls in contentment, Mike slides his hands up to cup her breasts. The twin peaks seem to fit perfectly in his hands. She moans and arches up into his hands, welcoming the attention. Reaching back she hooks her hand around his head, running her fingers through his hair. Between the soft breeze and her contact, that one unruly lock of hair flops forward and curls over his forehead.

Taking her actions as encouragement, Mike begins nibbling on Paige's long, bare neck. Her scent is clean and crisp, even with the smells of the surf, sand and firewood permeating the air. When he takes her earlobe between his teeth and runs his tongue over the shell of her ear, she moans his name, "Oooh, Mike!"

Without breaking contact, Mike slides his hands under the cups of Paige's bikini top, pushing the scant fabric out of the way and rolls each of her nipples between his fingers, drawing more sighs of encouragement from her lips. He plucks each of the rosy tips, hardening the nubs before his eyes.

In response, Paige strains to twist her head around to kiss him and Mike obliges by leaning forward to capture her mouth in a bruising kiss. Paige kisses the way she does everything else – with an intense passion. Although it feels reckless, knowing her as he does, Mike is well aware that she's fully in control of her actions and responses. That understanding makes this all the more intense for him. She wants this – wants him. It's finally their time.

It's like he has everything he's ever wanted right here on this beach. His dream job awaits him. He's the conquering hero, even if they didn't get Odin, and he got the girl. Problem is, tomorrow those things conflict. He's moving back across the country and she's staying here at Graceland. She'll move on to the next guy who can scratch her itches, who won't mean a thing to her and to the lies she'll tell him about being a pharmaceutical rep or the lead singer in a punk band. He wonders fleetingly if that's all he is to her; an itch, a curiosity, nothing more than a warm body to sate her physical needs with no emotional connection. Feeling her hands clutch at his thighs while they are making out drags him back from those dark thoughts to the place where he will simply concentrate on the beautiful woman who he's pretty sure will let him have his way with her, unless all this is, is her having her way with him. In the end, he decides it doesn't matter because tonight – this morning – is only about the here and now. Tomorrow will take care of itself.

He slides one hand deliberately down her elongated torso to palm her entire sex. The heat and moisture emanating from between her long legs, spurs him further, especially as she spreads her thighs and lifts her hips toward his hand, increasing the friction between them. Almost manhandling her, he presses his fingers against her and pulls the fabric of her suit against her nether lips, teasing her more before sliding under the material and into the slick inferno he finds there. Unerringly, his sure hands push downwards, until he's able to part her silken folds and plunge one finger into her molten core. He breaks their fiery kiss to gasp, "God!" as he frigs her to a quick climax. She had been wound so tight in anticipation of this moment, it didn't take much to push her over the edge.

Almost as soon as she comes down from that first momentary high, Paige is squirming Mike's his arms, rearranging herself to straddle him. The wiry hair on his legs tickles her legs. Wrapping her arms around Mike's neck, Paige reinstitutes their heavy make out session as she grinds herself down against his erection. He slides his hands under the hem of his shirt and up her back, caressing the lithe muscles before slowly untying her bikini top. Ducking his head, Mike moves the loose fabric away from her breasts in order to suckle a nipple. Paige throws her had back in ecstasy.

Not content to simply receive, Paige kisses her way to Mike's ear while he continues to feast on her breasts. Returning the favor he had bestowed on her earlier, she takes a few seconds to explore it with her tongue which make him shiver and grab her by the hips. She assumes she'll have finger bruises by the time the sun rises but she doesn't care. The pleasure and anticipation are too great.

Unwilling to wait any longer, Paige slides her hips backwards, breaking the full torso connection and dislodging herself from Mike's talented mouth. Momentarily confused because he thinks she's going to tell him to stop, he smiles shyly as she unbuttons his cargo shorts and slides the zipper down. Reaching in, she pulls his erect cock from his grey boxer briefs and through the opening of his fly. Grasping it in her small fist, she strokes and tugs firmly, enjoying the weight of his manhood in her hands. It's a good size, long and full but not too big. It will fit her perfectly.

"Tell me you have a condom," she husks.

Mike's eye's fly open. He's not prepared for this but Boy Scout that he is, he tries to salvage the situation. "In my room. . . " He almost look sheepish – like an awkward schoolboy – as he says it.

Paige chuckles and reaches up to extract a string of three attached foil packets from the breast pocket of her – his – shirt. Smirking, she gives him a look as if to say, _You didn't really think I came out here without these, did you_?

Grateful for her planning but without much blood left in his brain, Mike blurts out, "I think I love you."

Those words still Paige and she glares at him sharply, silently reprimanding him. _You did not just say that_!

"Not like that," Mike stutters, understanding that declarations of love were premature at best. "For being prepared."

"Better," Paige agrees but bends to kiss him, if for no reason than he can't talk while her tongue is in his mouth.

With his strong arms bracketing her for support, she begins to tear open the condom. As she rolls it over his length, careful to pinch the tip to create a reservoir, Mike's hands move to bracket her hips. Grasping the strings holding her bikini bottom on he breaks the kiss to ask, "Can I?' before gently pulling them loose. She kneels, lifting her ass from his lap so he can pull the useless scrap of fabric away. Although he's almost fully clothed, she is in essence wearing only his open shirt. The bikini top hands between her perfect breasts like nothing more than a cloth necklace. "You're so beautiful," he praises the magnificent woman bathed in firelight.

In the absence of any further barriers between them, Paige surges forward to rub herself against Mike. She's already wet from his earlier fingering so there isn't much resistance as she settles herself on his cock.

The feeling is mutual perfection. She's just tight enough around him and oh so hot and moist. He fills her without being too big or painful. It's as if two pieces of a puzzle have been reconnected. They moan together into each other's mouths in synchronized delight. She bounces happily on his length, kneeling up then lowering herself back down. Mike can't believe her self-control. He wants to flip them over and pound into her succulent body at a frenzied pace. The only thing that is stopping him is the prospect of sand and all of its abrasive qualities. Still Paige continues her languid rhythm in the most exquisite torture.

"You feel soooo good," she assures him.

"You're killing me."

"But what a way to die," she teases, squeezing her kegel muscles around him and making Mike's eyes grow wide in wonder.

"My God," he breathes delighted by this new sensation.

"Touch me," she begs, increasing her pace.

Ever the gentleman, Mike brackets one arm across her back but places his fingers as directed to toy with her clit. Even in the dim light of the fire, he can he how encouraged she is because of course she's bare everywhere.

Fueled by his fingers, Paige moves more rapidly up and down his shaft. Her breathing is becoming increasingly ragged as his Mike's own respiration. Her fact his flushed. He thinks she never looked sexier – bolding riding him for all she is worth, her hair bouncing and flowing in the breeze. Her head is thrown back and her eyes are closed. It's better than Mike ever imagined.

"I'm . . I'm," she gulps for air, locking eyes with him, daring him to look away knowing he won't. "I'm coming!" The wonderful spasms rock her whole body on top of him and the combo pulls his own ejaculation from his body, spilling into the waiting condom.

They are both breathing hard, as Paige moves back to rest her forehead against Mike's. "That was. . . "

"Yeah," he agrees, kissing her lightly. Neither of them had the oxygen for a lengthy French kiss.

Realizing she was still impaled on him, Paige rises up then stands, to allow Mike to remove the used condom. Not knowing what else to do with it, he tosses it in the fire.

"Litter bug," she teases.

Looking up at her, she looks like a giant towering over him. Ironically, the two buttons remained closed, effectively shielding her pussy from sight based on the way the shirt was hanging. "What are you going to do, arrest me?"

She thinks about it for a moment, before declaring, "No. I think you'd like the handcuffs too much."

Mike smiles. Yeah, he thinks, being handcuffed by Paige has definite possibilities. "C'mere," he says holding out and arm for her to return.

Paige makes a face. She really doesn't want to plop her naked ass down on the sand.

She doesn't have to say anything before Mike realizes the problem. Whipping his t-shirt over his head, he lays it out next to him so she can sit down.

Looking at the tableau before her Paige smiles softly. Mike is such a good guy but he does look a bit goofy, sitting there, shirtless, softened spend cock lying sideways against his thigh. Wordlessly accepting his invitation and grateful that she doesn't have to immediately begin the search for her bikini bottoms, she folds herself into his arms. The skin of his chest is warm and soft. She idly traces his peck while listening to his heart beat. This could be the beginning of something amazing if it weren't ending when he gets on the plane tomorrow. As if he could hear her thoughts, Mike cuddles her a bit more tightly. They'll worry about it later.


End file.
